by Lori Drake
There were so many stars in the night sky. The light pollution was virtually nonexistent out here. He hadn’t passed so much as a highway marker in what seemed like forever. Spanish guitar spilled quietly from the car speakers, and he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the beat.
His sharp eyes picked up a light in the distance, shimmering on the edge of the horizon but growing brighter as he sped down the highway toward it. The headlights reflected off a sign some miles later. It read, Hotel Valencia, 15 miles ahead.
A sudden yawn cracked Chris’s jaw open, a wave of weariness coming over him as if summoned by the mere notion of somewhere to stop for the night. He made up his mind then and there. It didn’t matter if the place turned out to be a complete rat trap; there was no telling when the next opportunity for rest might come.
The palatial building that rose up out of the darkness eventually chased any thoughts of rat traps out of his mind. He counted five stories of stuccoed, Spanish Mission-style elegance, with jutting towers and a roofline with peaks and valleys that reminded him of his childhood home.
Chris turned onto the palm-tree-lined drive, admiring the view so much that he nearly missed a flicker of movement ahead. There was a large gray wolf standing in the middle of the road. Chris slammed on the brakes. Tires squealed, and his heart leapt into his throat. The beast stood there, its eyes reflecting the headlights as the car careened toward it.
There wasn’t enough time to stop.
Chris woke with a start, heart hammering and body tensed for impact. The room was pitch dark and unfamiliar, but Joey’s familiar form was snuggled against his side. He blinked, slowly relaxing against the lumpy mattress, and let sleep claim him once more.
A noisy jangle woke Joey from a dead sleep, sending her shooting upright on the sagging motel mattress. Beside her, Chris stirred with a quiet groan.
It took Joey a moment to locate the source of the racket. The old rotary telephone by the bed was practically vibrating itself off the desk. She leaned over and grabbed the handle to shut it up, but it slid from her sleepy grasp and smacked the table before thudding to the carpeted floor. Distantly, she heard someone calling her name as she crawled to the edge of the bed and leaned over to fumble around for the receiver.
It was still dark outside, and the room was cold. The radiator must have turned off while they slept. How long had she been asleep? Thanks to the blackout curtains, she couldn’t see much of anything. Even her wolf’s night vision required some sort of light.
Her fingers snagged the coiled cord and she reeled in the receiver.
“Hello?” She sounded as groggy as she felt.
“Joey!” The relief in Dean’s voice was palpable.
Joey surged to full alertness in a heartbeat. “Dean?”
Beside her, Chris sat up and leaned over to turn on a light. Joey blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted.
“You know me,” Dean said. “Can’t resist a damsel in distress.”
“What the— How did you— How are you—” She looked at Chris. “It’s Dean.”
“I gathered that,” Chris murmured, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
“How did you find us?” Joey asked.
“Roger told me what was going on. I left about the same time you did, but keeping pace has been tricky. I lost you once, but… that’s another story for another time. The important thing is, I’m here.”
“Here where?” Joey leaned closer to Chris and shifted the phone so he could listen in.
“At the motel. I got a room. Didn’t know if yours was being watched. Roger says it isn’t, but you can never be too careful.”
“Are you crazy? You’re putting my mother’s life at risk by being here!”
“You want me to go?”
Indecision held Joey in its grip briefly, but she sighed. “No, no. Eric doesn’t know you from Adam—er, anyone. If we play our cards right, it should be safe.”
“Just call me your ace in the hole,” Dean said.
Chris snorted softly in response, and Joey elbowed him.
“Thanks, Dean,” Joey said. “This is actually kind of heartening. Now he doesn’t hold all the cards.”
“You’re going all in on this poker metaphor.”
“Give me a break,” Joey mumbled. “I haven’t had much sleep.”
“Me either. Speaking of which, I want to get some.”
“Wait. How do we stay in touch? Eric made us ditch our phones.”
“I got ‘em. Well, one of them. It took me a while, and I didn’t want to risk falling farther behind.”
A broad smile nearly split Joey’s face in two. “Dean, I could kiss you.” Beside her, Chris made a grunt of objection. Joey laughed. “I won’t, but I could.”
“Don’t want your cooties anyway. Sam was blowing it up, so I answered it and told him what was up. Your family’s standing by. I’ll find a way to get your phone to you tomorrow. Remind Roger to wake me up before you go anywhere.”
“Okay. Get some sleep—you’ve earned it.”
He yawned noisily. “Damn right. G’night, Red.”
“Night. Oh! Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For everything.” Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, but she kept them at bay.
“Don’t mention it.”
Joey hung up and sat back against the headboard. Dean’s arrival had given her new hope, and she needed it more than she’d realized. A glance in Chris’s direction told her he wasn’t quite on the same page.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head, but the tension around his eyes was impossible to miss. For her, anyway.
“You can’t seriously be worried about Dean and me,” she said.
Chris snorted softly. “I’m not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
He didn’t answer right away, but he did gather her in his arms, wrapping the blanket around them both in the process. “What does Dean’s arrival mean to you?”
Joey closed her eyes, snuggling close to him. “It means we’re not alone. We have help, something Eric won’t expect. Why?” She looked up at him. “What does it mean to you?”
Expression grave, he met her gaze. “One more opportunity for collateral damage.”
She wanted to assure him that he was being overcautious, but now that he’d mentioned it… it was a concern. Even after Chris turned the light back off and they settled down to try for a little more sleep, Joey had trouble shaking it off. As Chris’s breath slowed and deepened, she lay there listening to his heartbeat and fretted for their friend’s safety. Maybe they should send him back to Seattle in the morning. Maybe they should not have Roger wake him up, and slip away while he slept. Could they get out of Roger’s range before Dean woke up?
It felt like she’d only drifted off for a second when a sudden banging on the door woke her. Cracking her eyes open, she found the room lighter than it had been. Fingers of daylight crept around the edges of the curtains. By the time Chris slid from the bed, tugged on his pants, and headed for the door, another round of persistent knocking had started.
Joey watched from the bed as Chris opened the door. Morning sun streamed into the room, bathing him in light. A pity he’d slept in his shirt. It would’ve been a hell of a view.
“Chris Martin?” came an unfamiliar voice. Joey couldn’t see out the door from the bed; the angle was all wrong.
“Yeah,” Chris said.
“Here you go.” A hand holding a brown paper bag with a familiar fast food logo printed on it was thrust into the room.
“We didn’t order anything,” Chris said, but reached for the bag anyway.
Joey sat up, sniffing the air. She could smell eggs, sausage, and grease. It smelled like heaven in a brown paper bag. “We’ll take it anyway!”
Snorting, Chris shook his head and tried to give the bag back.
“The guy said fifty up front and fifty on delivery,” the man said.
Chris frowned an
d opened the bag, glancing inside. “Fifty bucks for two sandwiches?”
“Just pay the man!” Joey said. Her mouth watered, and her stomach rumbled noisily.
“Yeah, just pay the man,” the stranger said.
Chris took out his wallet and pulled out some cash. “I’ll give you an extra fifty if you answer a few questions.”
“Hurry up, it’s cold out here.”
“Who paid you to deliver this?” Chris asked.
“Some guy. He said you were a friend of his and you’d be here today.”
“When was this?”
“Two days ago.”
“What’d he look like?”
Joey groaned, flung back the covers, dashed over, and snatched the bag from Chris’s hands. “Sadist,” she muttered, but the guy outside was right. It was cold. She stepped behind Chris, using him as a windbreaker. She hadn’t worn pants to bed either.
“Uh…” The delivery guy seemed to have lost his train of thought.
Chris snapped his fingers to get the man’s attention. “Tall? Short?”
Joey peeked around Chris at the stranger. Despite his deep voice, he had a gangly teenager look to him, with a bulbous nose and big ears that stuck out under his knitted cap.
“Tall,” the man said. “White guy. Muscular.” It certainly sounded like Eric. Or any other tall, white, muscular man.
Joey darted back for the bed. By the time Chris had paid the delivery guy and closed the door, she’d torn open the waxy paper wrapper around one of the breakfast sandwiches and taken a big bite. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned in pleasure.
The bed shifted as Chris sat and reached for the bag. “I hope you saved some for me this time.”
Joey’s cheeks heated, but she refused to let his teasing spoil her first real meal in a solid eighteen hours. They ate in silence, the crinkling of paper aside, and Joey peeked into the bag once she finished eating, hoping maybe there’d been something else tucked in the bottom.
“A hundred bucks, and not even some hash browns?” she said, shaking the empty bag upside down.
“Would’ve been cold anyway,” he said.
“Hmph. Cold hash browns do suck,” Joey said, stretching out and resting a hand on her barely satisfied stomach. “Wonder if we have time for a hot shower.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait in case he calls. I doubt it’ll be long, since he’ll expect us to be up now.”
Joey collected her pants and headed for the bathroom, where she was pleasantly surprised to find there actually was hot water. She managed to soap up her hair before her shower was cut short by a pounding on the bathroom door.
“We’ve gotta get moving. Hurry up!” Chris said.
Joey rinsed quickly and came out of the bathroom, still toweling her hair. Chris was pacing, the phone pressed to his ear. He stopped when he spotted her.
“She’s coming out now, okay? We’re leaving.” He hung up and stuffed the phone in his pocket, then grabbed both of their coats and tossed Joey’s to her as he strode for the door.
“What’s wrong?” She tossed the towel on the bed and put on her coat.
Chris’s eyes were stormy. “Mom’s down to seven unbroken fingers.”
A growl rumbled from Joey’s throat, and she grabbed Roger’s coffee can from the nightstand on her way out.
“Roger!” she barked, and shook the can for good measure. “Wake up Dean. It’s showtime.”
The dry air, heavy with the scent of sage, tickled Chris’s nostrils as he stepped out of the car and handed off the keys to a valet. His dress shoes clicked on the tiled floor as he strode into the lobby. It was large and brightly lit, warm in contrast to the chill outside. Ceiling fans spun lazily overhead. Despite the late hour, a handful of guests lounged around the room on wicker furniture with brightly colored cushions.
The man behind the front desk smiled as Chris approached, teeth pearly white and skin richly tanned. “Buenas noches, señor. Do you have a reservation?”
“No,” Chris said. “I hope that isn’t a problem.”
“Not at all, señor.”
The clerk took his information and passed a key across the desk. Chris thanked him and turned to go but nearly collided with a stunning brunette. She put a manicured hand on his arm, red lips curving in a smile as she gazed up at him.
“Careful,” she said.
“Sorry. I really should watch where I’m going.”
She trilled a laugh. “It’s okay. I never mind bumping into handsome men.” Her eyes held his in the wake of a flirtatious wink. They were blue. No, green. They shifted between colors while he watched, practically hypnotized.
Blinking, he shook his head and stepped aside, but she slipped her arm through his.
“Come,” she said. “You’re just in time.”
She drew him out one of the side doors, into a courtyard ringed by palm trees. A flamenco band played on a raised platform in the center of the courtyard, around which couples whirled and spun to the music. Paper lanterns overhead, strung between the trees, cast an ethereal glow over the scene. The song was familiar. It was the same one he’d been listening to in the car when he first saw this place in the distance. Fitting, he thought.
Chris’s feet itched to join the dancers, so he eagerly led the woman on his arm to join them. They danced, making artful lines with their bodies, stamping their feet, and clapping their hands now and then to the rhythm of the drum. With each spin, her red ruffled skirt flared around her tanned, slim legs. Chris lost himself in the movement, his world shrinking to the next beat, the next step, until a distant howl intruded.
“Did you hear that?” he asked, peering through the trees. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
There was a familiar voice at the edge of his hearing. “A storm is coming.”
Chris’s steps faltered as he tried to locate the source of the voice. His partner turned his face back to hers and caught his eyes. Her eyes did that thing again, shifting between green and blue and back again. Chris fell into her gaze and forgot about everything else until a deep voice penetrated the fog.
“Karina! No fair monopolizing our guest.”
The woman, Karina, broke eye contact and shifted her attention to a man standing a few feet away. Chris’s feet stilled when he realized the music had stopped. No, not just stopped. The band, the platform, and the other dancers had vanished.
Karina slipped from Chris’s arms and stepped back, a sheepish but not entirely apologetic look on her face. “Sorry,” she said, then winked at Chris.
The well-groomed stranger drew closer, wingtip shoes silent on the smooth paving stones. His white linen suit was impeccable, without a single crease or speck of lint.
“Welcome to my hotel,” he said.
“Oh, are you the owner?” Chris asked.
The man smiled, the corners of his brown eyes crinkling. “Something like that.”
Chris offered a hand. “Chris Martin.”
The stranger neither shook his hand nor introduced himself. Instead, he stepped closer and took Chris’s face between his hands. “I know exactly who you are, Christopher Ryan Martin.”
“Oh, okay,” Chris said, accepting this easily.
The man had a captivating presence about him. He leaned closer, looking deeply into Chris’s eyes. Chris had never felt so vulnerable, like all his secrets were laid bare.
The strange thing was that he didn’t mind at all.
Another distant howl drew the man’s gaze over Chris’s shoulder. He frowned, lowered his hands, and stepped back. “Karina will see you to your room.”
“Wait,” Chris said, taking a step forward. “Who are you?”
The man didn’t answer, just walked away, leaving Chris alone with Karina and a lingering sense of dismay that twisted in his gut. Had he done something wrong?
He hurried after the man, reaching out to catch his arm. When Chris touched his sleeve, the man vanished. His suit folded in on itself, puddling on the floor at Chris’s feet and sto
pping him short.
Karina came up behind him and sighed. “Now look what you’ve done.”
Chris jolted awake. He blinked slowly, finding himself in the passenger seat of Joey’s car. He wasn’t sure when he’d drifted off, but the clock on the dash said quarter after twelve.
“Welcome back,” Joey said, turning down the radio. They must’ve passed by a town of some sort while he was out. It’d been a while since they had any music to listen to. Right now, all he saw out the window was desert.
“Thanks,” Chris murmured, and rubbed his face. They’d been driving all morning, with check-ins from Eric every hour or two. On his direction, they’d caught I-84 shortly after crossing into Oregon and had continued southeast, dipping into Idaho before swinging back west into Oregon.
The strange dream lingered with him, for all that he tried to shake it off. Sitting up straighter, he looked around with a frown. “Are we going north again?”
“Yeah, northwest, for the last half-hour. Eric should be calling again soon.”
“Maybe we’re getting close to wherever it is we’re going,” Chris said, stretching his long legs as best he could in the confines of the car. Which wasn’t much.
“Want to try going astral again?”
“Not while we’re moving.” He twisted in his seat to look out the back window. “Any Dean sightings?”
Joey shook her head. “Hopefully he’s just keeping his distance. It’d be nice if we could talk to Roger.”
“I can ask him when we get a break. If we get a break.” The consequences of deviating from Eric’s instructions had been made painfully clear.
Joey nodded, and they lapsed into silence once more. The radio station started flickering in and out a few minutes later, and Chris leaned over to punch the scan button in case there was something else in range.
